


The Beginning

by DDBB19



Series: The Unkindness [1]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 16:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18253481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DDBB19/pseuds/DDBB19
Summary: Girl kidnapped, put on a plane and shipped across the worldYears later, she finds out about what went down back home.As the rage settles in, she comes to the beginning of her journey.





	The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this for well over a year and I have more.  
> You like it? Drop me a comment or a kudos.  
> Constructive criticism is very much welcomed and any advice given will be taken on board.  
> The next work in this series only needs some editing and then I'll be able to post.  
> Unfortunately, I don't know when that'll be because my life is pretty hectic with a tonne of shit right now.  
> I'm doing my utmost best to get it sorted but as they say, Rome wasn't built in a day.  
> Thank you and enjoy!

Born on the twenty-eighth of January, 1973, my parents named me Kiara Raven. Five years later, my mother gave birth to my younger brother, Jackson Nathaniel. We had a pretty normal childhood with fun, laughter and filled with family. When Jackson had turned six, we got news that our parents were expecting a third child, another boy. Jack-Jack and I were ecstatic and couldn’t wait for his arrival.   
Then I woke up in the middle of the night with a hand over my mouth and an arm around my waist, restraining me. Playing possum was easy. At the time, I didn’t know how I did it but I catalogued every single thing, from how something smelled to the way someone breathed to the textures of everything that touched my bare skin. Nowadays, I have a name for it; Hyperthymesia, the ability to remember everything in vivid detail.   
I can remember the unique scents people carried. How my father always smelled of grease, motor oil, stale cigarette smoke and home. How my mother smelled like nail varnish, cigarette smoke, a hint of her favourite perfume and home, safety. I remember the way they breathed and I can say with absolute certainty that the person who kidnapped me, was someone my parents trusted implicitly. Someone who’d sworn to protect our family at all costs and there they were, tearing our family apart.   
If you didn’t know already, my dad’s name was John Thomas Teller and he was one of two founders of the motorcycle club, the Sons of Anarchy. My mother, Gemma Teller Morrow nee Maddock. Now, I don’t know what happened when my parents woke up the next morning to find me gone, but I can guarantee they think me dead. I don’t particularly like beating around the bush, preferring to be blunt and to the point, so I’m just going to tell you. So, here goes; Clarence ‘Clay’ Morrow kidnapped me, had me on a plane and leaving the country within the hour. And when I see him again, face to face, I’m going to give him the ass-whooping of a lifetime.

When the plane landed and all the other passengers had disembarked, I was left sitting in my seat, terrified out of my mind. The flight attendants didn’t notice anything amiss until they were cleaning the plane for the next flight. I was an eleven-year-old girl, huddled up against the wall of the plane, still wearing the pyjamas I’d worn to bed with nothing on my feet and practically left to fend for myself in a strange and unknown place. That place being Scotland.   
If I had it my way, my family would never learn of the horrors I had to endure, witness and adapt to at such a young age. I kept my mouth shut through everything and they gave me a new name, of which I will never ever speak, and placed me with a foster family in some place called Barlanark. Back then, the place was brutal but the people were polite. See, it was always a battle when the street lights came on. Barlanark versus Easterhouse, fighting over the barrier that was Edinburgh Road. They’d launch things at each other, swing axes and poles and pieces of wood in the hopes of severely injuring their target. The injuries in some cases were horrific but I’ve got to give them all some credit. If an innocent party, say a woman with a pram or buggy, was trying to pass on either side of the road, all violence would stop until said innocent party was well and truly clear.

Growing up in that environment was eye-opening at best and absolutely horrible at worst. But I thought the world was a cruel and unforgiving place back then and look at where we are now. It’s not just individuals going to war over something as simple as the  housing estate they live in. It’s countries going to war simply because one country has a better oil supply than the other.

But when I hit eighteen, I stopped all that shit until I got wind of a Sons of Anarchy charter in Belfast, Ireland. A few friends and I decided it’d be fun to take the weekend after school let out for the last time, have ourselves a bit of fun. I was still a child and was in no way prepared for what I found.   
My girls and I were stunt bike enthusiasts back in the day and so, we decided to have us a little more fun than usual, which caught the attention of the Sons of Belfast. Considering our bikes were made for off-roading, we had tonnes of fun watching as they tried to keep up, until they gave up. We gave them a little while to cool down before rolling up on their clubhouse, only to be met with guns aimed at our heads until we removed our helmets and laughed at each other, guess it wasn’t enough time for them.   
“What the fuck are you three doin’ hoppin’ about on bikes like that?” I identified the voice as belonging to their President.    
“How long’s yer charter been up an’ runnin’?” I asked him. They didn’t take too kindly to that.   
“How th’ fuck do ye know about this?” He waved his gun in my face until I disarmed him and pointed between the eyes.   
“You met the King, Queen and both Princes Charming?” At his nod, I continued, “Kiara Raven Teller, Princess fuckin’ Charmin’. Snatched from me bed in th’ middle o’ the night, aged eleven. Currently twenty an’ really fuckin’ pissed!” I was snarling by the end and I watched as he paled.   
“Guns down, lads. Everybody in church, now. Move!” He made sure all weapons were put away before he turned his full attention to me, “C’mon, lass. Into church, I’ve got news an’ yer no’ goin’ ta like it.”   
Moving through their clubhouse brought me a sense of peace, home, that I never really knew I was missing. I made sure my friends stayed with me and accompanied me to church. I didn’t know these guys and there was no way in hell that I’d leave myself vulnerable in a room full of them, Sons of Anarchy or not. The President offered the chair of his Second to me and no one contested it. Once everyone was seated, the President rolled his chair back, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath before finally looking at me.   
“Ye remember yer Ma was pregnant?” I nodded, “She named him Thomas Wayne Teller, he had the family flaw as yer Ma put it. Lad lived a good six years until complications with it killed him.”   
“I’m the only one o’ their bairns born without it.” I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes. “That prick! Ne’er got ta meet me baby brother ‘cause that fucker kidnapped me.” The tears overflowed and ran rivers down my cheeks with no signs of stopping.   
“I’m no’ finished yet, lass.” I could hear the quiver in his voice. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I gave him a nod to go ahead.   
“We're no’ long back from Charmin’. Funeral Ride.” I closed my eyes, “Yer Da was hit w’ an eighteen-wheeler an’ was dragged a fair bit before the driver finally noticed. He survived a further two days. His V.P has been voted in as SAMCRO Pres.” He was scared to open his mouth again, but someone had to tell her, “The day yer Da was pronounced dead, Clay announced yer Ma as his Ol’ Lady.”

The rage that ripped through me was something of the like I’ve never felt before. My eyes snapped open, tears were gone, my nostrils flared and my knuckles creaked.   
“This meeting never happened! None of you know that I’m alive. You weren’t even aware that John Teller’s oldest was female. Forget my name, forget my face. If I find out any of you slipped to anyone, I’ll make sure to wipe Sons of Anarchy off the fucking map, got it?”   
As we left the room, the door didn’t close properly and we heard a little of their conversation.   
“Someone should tell her about Trinity. It’d be good ferth’ Ashby’s ta see a Teller, especially at a time like this. Lass is only five, who’s ta say she won’t need her big sister at some point.”   
“Do as th’ lass says,” I recognised the Presidents voice, even as it shook, “We don’t know shit! An’ I believe her when she says she’ll wipe us off the map. I could see the Reaper in her eyes, lads. That lass is definitely a Teller an’ she’s goin’ ta become a fuckin’ hellcat when she’s older.”

For me, that was  _ The Beginning. _

**Author's Note:**

> Barlanark and Easterhouse are actual places.  
> The fights hinted at, have somewhat happened in the past.  
> The hints in this fic are in no way completely accurate, but it was worse than I made it seem.


End file.
